


The Apparating Dead

by autumnlynn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Incest, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 09:45:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnlynn/pseuds/autumnlynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the dead can apparate, how will the living survive? Narcissa and Draco battle zombies and unresolved sexual tension in muggle London.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Love Lucy

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based off of 'The Walking Dead'. Co-written with the most wonderful and deviant Mrs. Milfoy.

**Day One: I Love Lucy**

"Once again, ladies and gentlemen, we do urge you to take caution if you venture out into the muggle world. Also, please be mindful of any muggle-borns or muggle friends and family you may have."

Narcissa turned off the wireless. "Enough of that."

"You're not interested in what's happening?" Draco asked, looking up from his breakfast.

"Absolutely not. It's their problem." Narcissa said. "I for one haven't any muggle relations of any sort."

Lucius chuckled, turning a page of The Daily Prophet loudly.

"Something funny, Lucius?"

Lucius folded the paper and set it on the table. "It's amusing really," he said.

"What is?"

"We spend years trying to rid this world of muggles. Spending time in Azkaban. Risking our we hold dear...and now they are doing it to themselves!" He smirked.

Draco frowned. "What if it reaches the wizarding world?"

"Don't be daft, Draco," Lucius chided. "One would think you are some sort of worrying Gryffindor or lumpy Hufflepuff with that sort of question."

Draco pushed back his chair and threw his napkin on the table. "Excuse me," he muttered, leaving the breakfast room.

"Must you insult him?" Narcissa asked, finishing her tea.

Lucius leaned back in his chair. "It was hardly an insult, Cissa."

Narcissa pursed her lips and stood from the table. "Of course not," she said dryly. She started to walk past him and felt him grab her arm. He pulled her onto his lap.

"My darling," he whispered "I think we should celebrate when I get home this evening. Hmmm?" He said, pressing her into his groin. His hand wandered up her midsection until he reached her breasts.

Narcissa pulled herself off of him, trying to hide the look of disgust from her face.

"That yellow, lacy thing would be nice!" He shouted after her as she quickly left the room.

A few hours later Lucius was shaking hands with the elderly wizard across the table from him. "I do believe you will be quite pleased with our final proposal tomorrow, Mr. Romero."

The old wizard nodded. "I'm sure I will be, Mr. Malfoy. Please do give your lovely wife my best, won't you?" He said as he hobbled out of the room.

Lucius grabbed his walking stick and sauntered out of the conference room after him.  _My best_. He smirked, waiting for the next lift. _She'll be getting more than my best tonight. I wonder if I can convince her to let me..._.

"Mr. Malfoy!"

Lucius turned around to see his delightfully young female assistant running towards him. Her skirt was too short. Her shirt was far too tight. The way she poured his coffee always gave him a lovely view.  _Perfectly qualified_. He adored her assistance.

"Yes, Mary?"

"Mr. Malfoy, I-" she swayed a bit. Her face was flushed. Perhaps a bit too flushed.

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Mary? Are you alright?" She looked worse than she normally did after a session on her knees under his desk.

Mary swayed again, falling forward into Lucius' arms. The books she had been holding landed loudly on the floor. He tried to push her up but her feet slipped out of her heels and she fell deeper into his arms.

He felt a sharp pain in his left arm.  _The Dark Lord!_  he panicked. _Don't be stupid_ , he thought and dropped Mary to the floor with a loud thud. He pulled back his sleeve and looked at the blood that streaked his arm.  _The bint bloody bit me_! "Stupid bitch," he muttered as he rolled his sleeve back down. Mary moaned as Lucius stepped over her and headed for the stairs.

Lucius apparated out of the Ministry and into Diagon Alley, sneering at those who dared look at him. He passed a jewellery shop and stopped to look in the window. He stared at the gaudy diamond choker displayed in the window. _Perhaps after lunch. I always enjoy fucking Narcissa while she's tied up in diamonds_.

He turned from the shop and continued until he reached Knockturn Alley. Casting a habitual glance over his shoulder he walked down the stairs. Turning into one of the narrow passageways he spotted one of his favourite prostitutes and instructed her to be ready for him next Monday as he walked into the Pentacle Club.

"Draco, please. I can't listen to those infernal announcements any longer." Narcissa aimed her wand at the wireless, switched it off impatiently.

"Mum! I was listening to that! There've been reports of possible infection among magical people!"

"Nonsense." She sniffed. "It's hysteria. Magical healers overreacting. They're so damned obsessed with all things muggle. Like...a bunch of Weasleys."

"Do you honestly think this, whatever this is, won't affect us?" asked Draco.

Narcissa sighed. "Honestly? I do believe it's their problem. What was that article the other day?" she asked. "Something about muggle versus magical medicine? It takes them days to heal cuts, months to mend bones. For Merlin's sake they sew skin together! They just...aren't as medically advanced as we are." She turned another page in the latest copy of Style Witch. "Although I will say, Draco, I don't think it's a bad thing that you are interested in what's going on."

"So you don't think I'm some worrying, lumpy prat because I'm reading up on all this?"

"Oh, I think you're a prat," Narcissa said with a smirk. "But no, I see nothing wrong with your taking an interest in something and learning." Draco gave her a half-smile as she stood from the satee. "Now, if you'll excuse me, your father should be arriving shortly and I need to...be ready."

She barely heard his quiet 'I love you, mum' as she left the sitting room. She hurried up one of the manor's lesser used staircases, the feeling of dread growing with every step she took. She walked into her wardrobe, pausing for a moment in front of a set of drawers. _Why do I subject myself to this?_  She pulled open one of the mahogany drawers and dug around until she found it. An ugly, yellow negligee complete with little black bows. It had been a gift from Lucius on their fifteenth wedding anniversary.

Narcissa let out an audible sigh. "I could have used another elf; but, no. No, I had to receive a negligee from the discount reject bin at Pared Mart," she muttered. She let her clothes fall into a heap on the floor.

For a moment, she stood naked before the wardrobe mirror, turning this way and that in the dusk's natural light. Her fingers skimmed skin - pale and trim.  _Not bloody bad at all_. She wondered if Lucius even noticed. If he saw her when he _fucked_  her.  _Doubtfu_ l. Her lip curled, and she cracked her own neck with a brisk tilt. Her shell hardened.

There were preparations to make. Embarrassing ones.  _But necessary...at least for me_. In the well-appointed lavatory, she pinched at her cheeks before the vanity mirror, bringing up a bit more color. With a sigh, she opened the wicker door of the little potions cabinet and reached all the way to the back. Practiced fingers found immediately the ornate glass bottle. The charmed mermaid on the vial's cap winked at her.

"Bugger off," she muttered to the coy decor. She leaned against the edge of the sizable clawfoot, cocked a thigh to spread wide. Looking at the ceiling, she tilted a generous dollop of magical lubricant onto her two fingers. A scowl as she inserted said fingers into otherwise dry womanhood morphed to a slight smile.

The jelly melted in her heat, and a pleasant tingle erupted. She bit her bottom lip.  _At least there's thi_ s. She wondered when Lucius would arrive. If he stopped at the club, there might just be time...

Deciding to chance it, she slipped now slick fingers from slit to clit. Circled the precious organ with a teasing touch. She allowed her muscles to slack and closed her eyes, let her mind drift. The hands stroking her thighs were no longer her own, but masculine; thick, long fingers, neatly groomed nails.

"Mmmm," she moaned quietly as the hands stroked closer and closer to her tingling need, pulling back when they seemed near enough to satisfy. Then fingertips, rougher than her own, were stroking her feathered folds.

"Yesss," she whispered. Beneath gaudy yellow lace, the fantasy fingers dipped to sample warming wetness. She felt herself open up, felt pleasure fold in her abdomen and prepare to unfurl. Her invisible lover pressed close to her, his heavy body pressing to hers.

She could imagine her own slender fingers on his skin, stroking over taut muscle, the planes and dips of abdominal muscles. It left her wanting more. A second finger joined her first as she imagined finally opening her eyes; the thin trail of hair trickling down his chest, a shallow navel she could kiss, thin, boyish lips that would pleasure her soon enough, and the seductive silver eyes of... "Draco!?"

The name past her lips and before she could even begin to process her imagination's ultimate betrayal -

"Narcissa!" Her husband's voice echoed from their chambers.

_Dammit!_  Flustered, frustrated and more than a little disturbed, she bolted upright. The delicate vial of lubricant tumbled into the porcelain tub and cracked loudly. "Shite!" She cursed through clenched teeth.

"Darling?" He was near the door of the lav.

She stood before the sink again, steadying her breathing and attempting a casual air. "Yes, husband?" She quickly washed her fingers, used the water to touch her loose hair into place. When Lucius entered, she turned toward him with a placid look that said nothing was amiss.

Lucius on the other hand, looked very much amiss. She blinked at him. Rather disheveled and pink, though possibly from drink.  _Wonderful_ , she thought.  _This will take forever_. "Are you alright, Lucius?"

He waved off her concern. "Fine," he huffed. Tried a cocky smirk. "You look rather delicious."

She gave a tiny twirl. "I aim to please."

"Hm." He pulled her into his arms. She remembered a time when the embrace would have meant something. "And you always succeed."

Do I? She wondered as he led her to their bed, shedding his somewhat rumpled attire on the way. _And when I don't succeed...which whore does?_

There wasn't much seduction involved in Lucius' seductions. She was on her back, he was on her front, and his mouth tasted like firewhiskey and cigar. His hands were particularly clumsy tonight, too rough on her sensitive nipples. And she heard a delicate black strap snap on the negligee he'd requested. _Good. Hideous scrap of ugly. I won't miss it._

The fingers traveled quickly, as she'd expected, and she turned her head when he whispered in her ear. "Gods, you're wet for me, witch."

"Mmhm." She winced. _Thanks to my Mystic Mermaid Magical Glide. I should really write the Soul Freak Company a thank you letter_. The tacky lace was pushed aside and her tacky husband pushed inside. One. Two. Three thrusts. She squeezed her eyes shut. _I give him six or seven thrusts tonight. If the goddess is kind - less than that._

And it seemed the goddess favored her. Lucius slowed his rut, and came to a stop, breathed steadily into her neck. "Husband?" She opened her eyes. Something was wrong. Silence. "Lucius?" She felt him soften suddenly. "Are you well, darling?"

He was not. His body gave a small jerking motion. There was a worrisome hiccup. "Lucius." A minor panic set in and she pushed at his shoulders. He was so damned heavy. "Lucius!"

His reply was a cough - and then a sudden stream of hot, slimy vomit poured onto her face, neck and chest.

"Oh, gods! Lucius!" She scrambled beneath him, slithered and struggled free. She fell over the bed's edge and staggered to her feet. She knew she made quite a sight, ruffled and covered in sick, torn lingerie revealing an abused breast.

Lucius vomited again, retching on all fours like a dog. Narcissa flew to her wardrobe for her dressing gown. "Cissa..." He gasped. Reached for her.

Hesitantly, shaking, she took his sticky hand. "Come, husband," she managed. "To the - to the lav." She steadied him, rushed him across their chambers. When his bare feet hit the tile, he bent double and puked again. The pinkish fluid splattered loudly, splashed her feet and legs.

"Ah!" Gracelessly, she dropped him. Watched with a hand over her own mouth as he dragged himself through his own filth to the toilet. He hugged the seat, pressed his cheek to the cool surface.

Narcissa swallowed her own acid bile. Her fingers barely patted his sweaty back. "There, there..." She backed away. "Probably something you ate, love. Just...just get it all out." Another pitiful retch. He moaned. "I'll - I'll be back to check on you soon, Lucius."

She fled unashamedly, pausing only to retrieve her wand from the bedside table. Her untied dressing gown flapped about her legs as she rushed from their chambers and into the dim corridor beyond. There was a guest room down the way - one of many with an en suite lavatory - and all she could focus on was a bath. The smell of sick warming on her body was cloying, a gauche of rot and walking death.

She raised her wand to the locked latch of the nearest guest room, prepared to hiss her spell when:

"Mum?"

_Oh gods, no_. Her body tensed and froze. She took a deep breath.  _Control._  Tried to smile. Turned stiffly to her son. "Draco."

He stood framed in the low light of his adopted reading room, staring quizzically at her. She watched quizzical turn to concern. "Hell, mum. Are you alright?" He made to approach her, but she threw her arm up between them, a definite 'stay away' implied.

"I'm fine, son. Just..." She nodded. "Your father's sick and I -"

"No argument there," Draco interrupted. He came to her despite her protest. His nose wrinkled. "Mother." He tilted her chin up to face him, gestured to her barely dressed form. "Is that -"

"Draco. Please." She wasn't certain how much more she could tolerate. Between her husband's vomit and her son's smothering concern, she felt herself withering. "I need to wash up. Badly." Her voice trembled and humiliation loomed. She managed to pull her dressing gown over bared breast. "I assure you I'm fine. Please. Let me..."

"Go on." Draco finally understood. He backed away. "But if you need me..."

Tears welled.  _Such a good son_. Then the memory of her earlier abbreviated fantasy punched her in the sternum. She lurched away. "Thank you, son." She slammed the door, leaned against the wood and felt her own nausea threaten. The room's true-black darkness was cool comfort.

Even in the loo, she lit no sconces. 


	2. Day Two: The Apparating Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to a dear friend that was suddenly ripped from my life.

**Day Two: The Apparating Dead**

The awkwardness of the previous night crept into their morning breakfast. She couldn't bring herself to look Draco in the eye. Ashamed he had seen her in such a vulnerable and disgusting state.

She was surprised when Lucius appeared at the table. He looked hung over. His blond hair was matted and he reeked of cologne. They openly gawked at him.

"You could have had the elf bring that to you in bed."

Lucius took a bite of toast. "Absolutely not. I have a meeting to attend today. Wrapping up that proposal," he said, looking like he was about to throw up again. "Besides that, I have to find a new assistant."

"Mary drop dead, did she?" Narcissa asked with a hint of glee in her voice.

Lucius nodded. "Something like that. Easily replaceable though."

_Of course she is. A million little tarts out there begging to suck your cock, darling. Albeit, I'm not sure even the goddess knows why._

Lucius coughed, and Narcissa tensed. "Perhaps you should floo, darling," she tentatively suggested. She dreaded the thought of a splinched Lucius hanging in the sitting room.

“I...I think I will.” He wandered from the sunny breakfast room, pausing in the doorway as if to remember which way to the floo. Draco watched this with a look of surprise and amusement. Narcissa shook her head.

When Lucius finally disappeared around the corner, Draco spoke quietly. “What the hell has got into father?”

“I don’t know, Draco. He’s ill, I think. And too stubborn to see to himself.”

“Looks serious.” Draco’s eyes sought hers out over the tea service. “Did he hurt you last night?” The question bordered on violence.

“No. Not really.” Cissa blushed and gestured amorphously. “Just... It was nothing.”

Her son’s gaze darkened. Some unspoken thing threatened beneath his pale, genteel features. It passed, and that which was spoken was nearly as disturbing. “Well. Perhaps whatever this is will kill him.”

“Draco!” But she couldn’t reprimand him, even though he watched her expectantly. She couldn’t be such a hypocrite.

Lucius staggered from the floo in the oddly empty Ministry of Magic. He waited for the lift and could hear moaning coming from the ground floor corridors. _Have people no shame to at least try and hide the fact they have mistresses? Especially at the office. I shall have to make sure such lower class persons are evicted. Promptly._ His eyebrows raised at what sounded suspiciously like an echoing wail.

The lift arrived. Empty. As annoyed as Lucius was to have to push the button for floor four he was happy to see they had finally fired the incompetent lift operator. When the gate closed, he made to push back a stray shank of white-blonde hair, brought up short in the motion by something on his finger.

“Guh.” He groused. Sniffed the sticky red fluid. It was acrid, curled his nose and lip. Upon further investigation, he found the lift’s panel dripping with the stuff. _What the hell is happening here?_ A wave of dizziness washed over him and he steadied himself on the lift gate. Its violent motion threatened to make him sick again. _Not that it would matter. Apparently this place now collects filth._

The normally busy corridors were unusually empty. His secretary was slumped over her desk. _Too much firewhiskey, no doubt_. He swayed and stopped for a moment to regain his focus. Stumbled into the meeting room.

Mr. Romero was standing at a charmed window, wobbling slightly on his feet. “Sir,” Lucius managed. “I’m afraid I’m...” Words failed him when the older wizard turned fully. His normally kind wizened face was slack, the pallor bordering on battleship grey, twinkly eyes milky white. “Sir?” Very wrong...and this smell?!

Romero took a step forward. It was lurching and uncertain, as if his hip was unhinged. His foot turned oddly inward. Looked painful. Lucius took a step back. He felt terribly slow, but still able to recognise something vaguely threatening. I should...go home.

“Sir,” he repeated. But Romero groaned loudly, gurgled and lurched again. “Right.” Lucius felt the door’s latch, made to turn it. At least the old bastard is too slow to -

He didn’t even finish the thought. Romero sniffed, then moved with such unexpected speed Lucius lost track of his movements. He simply fell through the opening door, scrambled to his feet and fled. Racing past opened and trashed offices, he saw the others - the numerous behaving just as Romero had.

He stumbled on something on the way to the lift, looked down and was horrified to see Mary there on the carpet. Well, most of Mary. A great portion of her lovely body seemed to have been gnawed away. He vomited, for some reason still reaching toward the witch, as if touching her would make this _real_.

His shaking fingertips neared her frozen, horrified face. Her mouth seemed open on a silent scream. “Mary,” he whispered.

A growl. A blur. Mary leapt to life, hands closing round his neck.

Lucius couldn’t hide a guttural scream of pure, concentrated terror. He pissed his trousers and threw the barely-there witch away. She crumpled against a wall, but was rising as he did. He ran, cowardice and instinct blending into one driving force. When he reached the lift, he found it filled.

Staggered from the captive mass of dilapidated bodies, some feasting on others, their arms and hands with varying numbers of mangled fingers were straining through the grating, reaching for the panicked Malfoy.

From the other direction Mary, Romero and a host of other nightmares moved with speed, hungry for him. _No other option_. His muddled mind tried to concentrate. He felt fingers on his clothing. Apparated in desperation. He felt solid ground beneath his feet, dropped to it gratefully, smelled the gardenias of his lovely home...and another more troubling smell...something akin to death...

His vision blurred, and then everything went black.

"Where in the world is he?" asked Narcissa as she finished the last of her supper.

Draco looked up at her from across the table. "Do we care? Honestly?"

She said nothing. Unable to feign the slightest bit of concern anymore. _Probably trying out a new assistant_. She hoped he would get sick on her too.

They sat in silence. Not knowing what to say yet not bothered by the fact they didn't.

Crash! They jumped up from the table. They ran to the sitting room to find Lucius face down in the middle of a broken table and a shattered vase. Various other men in suits and cloaks lay scattered in the room.

Narcissa stood in the entry with her hands on her hips. "I told you to bloody floo! You're in no state to apparate and you've broken my favourite vase!" _Not only did he apparate drunk but he brought a bunch of drunken arseholes with him!_

Lucius moaned.

Draco and Narcissa looked at each other silently arguing who would have to help the poor sods to their feet.

"You're stronger," Narcissa finally said

Draco rolled his eyes and walked over to where Lucius lay. He tugged on his father's left shoulder trying to turn him over. "How much did you drink?" Draco muttered. He heard a sickening crunching sound as he pulled. He finally managed to turn Lucius over and jumped back in surprise.

His once regal and well groomed father was now tinged in blues and purples. His suit was torn and dirty. One of his lower eyelids was completely gone. Shredded flesh was all that was left.  Lucius snarled at him. His teeth were covered in blood and some were chipped or missing.

Draco stumbled backwards until he was completely against a wall. He stared at Lucius. Unable to break contact with the remains of his father's eyes.

Lucius fumbled for a moment and then stood up. Draco heard his mother gasp.  He stumbled towards Draco.

Draco took out his wand and pointed it at Lucius. "Stupify!" He shouted.

Nothing happened.

"Petrificus totalus!"

Lucius was moving closing.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The curse stopped Lucius for a brief second before he began to move again. Closer and closer. Draco panicked. He lifted his wand like a javelin and shoved it through one of Lucius's eyes.

Lucius stumbled backwards and fell to the floor with a groan.He didn’t move. The sound of groaning and cracking became louder. Draco looked up to see the other men start standing and moving towards him.

“Draco!” He heard Narcissa shout. He turned in time to see his mother smash one of the men over the head with a silver candelabra. The man dropped to the ground. The commotion drew the others near.

Draco ran to his mother. They stood almost paralysed, watching the men hobble and drag themselves closer to them. Draco grabbed her arm and tugged her backwards. They closed the doors to the sitting room and cast a locking spell upon it.

Leaning against the doors they could hear the men pounding against the doors in mindless frustration.

“I told you! I fucking told you!” Draco panted.

“Told me what?”

Draco swallowed. “Zombies! Like the muggles! I told you!”  
  
“Alright, you were right. What do we do?” Panic was starting to creep into Narcissa’s voice.

“I don’t know!”  
  
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Narcissa said, her voice going up an octave. “You’ve read about them haven’t you? Listened to the wireless? What do we do, Draco?!”

Before he could respond there was another loud crack and one of the men who had been in the sitting room appeared in the corridor. A spell erupted from the wand that was impaled in his hand. It bounced off the floor and disappeared into the far wall.

Draco felt his pockets for his wand. “Fuck,” he whispered. “My wand is still stuck in father’s head.”

Narcissa fired spell after spell at the zombie. “Sectumsempra!” She shouted. A cut appeared in the zombie’s stomach and its organs slowly began spilling out onto the floor. Narcissa choked back the bile that rose in her throat. Amazingly, the zombie carried on, dragging heavy feet through its own innards.

Draco followed her as she backed away and ran up the stairs. They ran through the manor until they reached Narcissa & Lucius’s room. They slammed the doors shut and Narcissa began casting every shield and protection charm she could think of.

“I’m not sure that will help,” Draco said, collapsing on the bed.

“I don’t care. I just need....something,” she said, casting one more enchantment before she fell on the bed beside him.

Draco gripped the duvet. “They’ve been known to apparate. To cast spells sporadically like young wizard children before they’ve been to school.” He took a deep breath. “Father must have brought them back here.”

 _Even between life and death he still manages to fuck things up and make me miserable_ , Narcissa thought. “But how do they apparate? That requires focus, concentration. These are shells of wizards!”

“They don’t know,” he responded. “No one knows.”

 


	3. Day Three: We’re Not in Wiltshire Anymore

**Day Three: We’re Not in Wiltshire Anymore**

They slept haphazardly on the bed. Waking up every few hours with a start. Waiting for the pounding on the doors to begin. Expecting another zombie to apparate in and try to kill them. 

Draco dreamed of his father except his father was very much alive. They were in Draco’s lavatory, arguing about something, but Draco couldn't remember what. He stabbed Lucius over and over, but the patriarch never bled - never faltered. Then Draco heard crying. He looked over to see his mother sitting on the floor, knees to her chest. She wasn't wearing any clothes. She looked up at him and he saw she was crying blood.

Draco awoke with a start, his clothes from the day before plastered to his body with sweat. His mouth tasted foul. He worked his dry tongue and felt his companion stir beside him. “Mum?” 

“Mmmm.” She moaned, pressed her face into his armpit and curled a bit more foetally against his side. 

He made to sit up. She clung to him. “Mum.” He extracted his arm. “We have to get out of here. There are probably more of them.” She propped on her elbows, sleepy eyes unfocused. He saw dots of blood like freckles on her pale complexion and wiped at a speck. It was almost...cute.

“What time is it?” She whispered.

“I don’t know. Early, I think.” A crash from the corridor caught their attention, eyes flashing like deers’. “What was that?”

“Sounded like my Louis the Sixteenth urn.” She scowled. “Is this really happening?”

Draco rubbed at his face. “I assume you’re referring to the zombie apocalypse currently befalling our country and possibly the world? Not just your decorative ceramics?” He slung his legs over the side of the bed.

She was pouting. “It was porcelain.”

Draco sighed. Reached out and rubbed at her back. “We should bathe, mum. Gather up some supplies and get out of here while we can.”

“What supplies?” She asked, looking away when Draco began shedding his clothes. 

“Potions,” he said. “You know. Medicinal things. And maybe some food...if we can still access the kitchen.” He paused in the door of the en suite. “You’re the only one with a wand right now, mum. We need to stick close together.”

She stood, checked that said wand was still tucked securely in her left sleeve. “Should I...” Her face worked oddly.

“Should you what?” He called from the lav. He started the bathwater running and dropped his trousers, intent on a quick wash-up.

“Should I stay with you, then?”

“Gah!” He whirled, surprised to see her standing in the doorway.

“Oh!” They blushed together, awkwardly turning away.

“Just - just wait by the door!” Draco tried to sound calm. “I’ll be fast. And then, I’ll wait there for you. Alright?”

She nodded, face averted as she dipped around the corner. “Alright.”

He was true to his word, brisk in his ablutions. Soap for everything and a plunge to rinse. Only when he emerged from the bath did he realise his error. 

Narcissa was pressed to the wall when he emerged. “Are you already - Oh, good goddess!” 

“What?!” He looked at her hand covered face. “I don’t have any clothes in here! I apologise!” He knew he made quite a sight in a too small towel, still dripping on her fine rugs. “For fuck’s sake, witch. You’re my mum!”

“Language, Draco!” 

He groaned to the ceiling. “Even now...” He snatched her wand from her sleeve. “Go. It’s your turn. I’ll find something of father’s to wear. Hurry.” She scurried past him and soon he heard water flowing again. 

Lucius’ wardrobe was directly across from the en suite. Draco felt secure enough leaving her for just a moment, and was soon dragging his father’s attire carelessly from drawer and hanger. “Merlin’s meat,” he muttered. “Did the man have a scrap of practical clothing?” Everything seemed to be velvet or satin with enormous buttons and elaborate clasps. He managed to find a cotton oxford and shrugged into it gratefully, looking into the built-in mirror.

He froze. The mirror gave him a perfect uninterrupted view into the lavatory, where his mother was sliding from the bathtub to the tile floor. She’d apparently forgotten to retrieve a towel, and crossed the threshold to a cupboard. Draco felt himself gaping, unable to look away.

Her hair was soaked, laying in one dark layer to the middle of her back. It dripped rivulets of water down, down over shapely, creamy buttocks, to soft svelte thighs. For a moment, her towel obscured his view, but the hypnosis was complete. When she wrapped the plush material around her back, she turned.

_Can’t be my mother_ , he thought. Full, perky breasts, nipples hardened slightly by the chill, and a taut if rounded tummy. He _tried_ not to look - tried - but the mirror wouldn't cooperate, and he took in red-faced that hidden apex of her. His point of origin, trimmed and dark, beckoning...

Another crash sounded, this one closer, and Draco shook himself. He grabbed a pair of black trousers and stepped into them. When he turned, Narcissa was standing at the foot of her bed gripping a thick post, eyes wide with fear. Draco pulled her wand. “Dress,” he instructed. “Quickly, mum!”

He could tell his urgency was wearing on her, and vowed to make some time for her later, to try to quell her anxieties. Truthfully, he wasn't certain how he was holding it together himself. He was buttoning his father’s trousers and heading for the lav again when she stopped him. “Draco?”

“What?” She was still in her bloody towel, holding out a black quilted bag. He took it curiously. “What’s this?”

“For the potions and such. It’s charmed.” She turned to her own wardrobe. “Why don’t you gather them while I dress?”

He smirked. _That’s how I’m holding it together. For her. With her_. “Alright, mum.” Back in the lavatory, he flung open the potions cabinet, grabbing bottles without really checking them. 

“Draco?” She called to him from her wardrobe. “Where will we go?”

“Someplace populated,” he called back. “I was thinking London. Someplace where we might find other uninfected people. Resources and perhaps a place to hide.”

“Won’t there be just as many infected there? Or more?”

“Muggles perhaps. But at least they won’t apparate in on us.”

Narcissa walked out the wardrobe dressed in a simple black dress and low heeled boots. "I suppose you may have a point," she said as she tied her hair back. "We’ll need food before we leave. Call the elf when you are done, Draco," she said as he dropped another potion into the bag. 

"Why can't you do it?" 

"Because," she said as she turned to walk back into the wardrobe. "I need to pack clothing. Who knows how long we'll be stuck there. I've seen the things those muggle women wear!"

"Yes, because the dead do care how you are dressed," Draco muttered as he pulled the drawstring shut.

"Soraya!"

A house elf in a faded black pillowcase appeared before Draco. "Yes, young master?" It squeaked. Its hands were red with what Draco assumed to be blood. The elf noticed Draco staring. "Soraya was trying to clean the mess in the corridor but wizards kept appearing and kept trying to attack Soraya. Soraya's been hiding in the cellar."

Draco looked at it with disgust. "Mother and I are going away for a time. Pack us food for the journey and be quick about it."

"Of course, young master." The elf responded with a shaky bow before apparating to the kitchens. 

Draco stood and walked out of the lavatory. Dropping the bag of potions on the bed he walked back into Lucius' wardrobe. The longer he stared the more the collection of velvet and lace seemed to grow. 

He sighed and walked out of the wardrobe and nearly tripped over the elf who had apparated in only moments before. 

"Oh young master! Soraya is most very sorry!" It yelped.

"Bloody elf," he muttered as he picked up the bag of fallen food and set it next to the bag of potions.

Narcissa walked into the bedroom with a small suitcase in hand. "Are you ready, Draco?"

Draco shook his head. "I want my own clothes. I refuse to spend the end of the world looking like a ponce."

"How do you plan on getting to your rooms from here?" She asked. "The halls are swarming with the living dead." As if on cue there was another loud crash on the other side of the door.

"Give me your wand," he said. "I'll apparate into my wardrobe and come back for you."

Narcissa shook her head. "Absolutely not. You are not leaving me here without a wand. Furthermore we don't know if your rooms are safe."

Draco looked around the room and spotted the elf cowering in the corner. "Soraya, go to my rooms and bring me a few shirts, trousers, and an extra pair of shoes."  
Soraya nodded. "Yes, young master. Soraya will be back very soon."

Narcissa and Draco sat in silence on the bed while they waited for the elf to return. Five minutes passed which slowly crept into ten. Still no sign of the elf.

"Soraya?" Narcissa called. They waited but the elf never appeared.

"Perhaps," Narcissa said softly, "you should take some of your father's clothing. We can charm the frilly bits off later." She didn’t want to think about what may have happened to the elf.

Draco nodded. He felt numb as he walked into the wardrobe again. _Not even my own room is safe any longer_. He grabbed a bag from one of the shelves and mechanically began pulling trousers and shirts from the hangers. Shoving the clothing into the bag he pulled open one of the drawers at the neatly folded pants. He tentatively reached for a pair and held it up between two fingers. _I'm not sure which is worse. Being completely pantsless or having to wear my father’s_. He added a few pairs to the bag in case of a dire emergency and walked back into the bedroom.

Draco saw Narcissa leaning against the window and staring out into the garden. His mind wandered to when he had seen her after her bath. _Some sickness in me_. He thought. _But will it matter? When all is said and done, will we survive for it to matter?_

She wiped her face. She was beautiful in the morning light. _If we all die tomorrow, what would be the harm in fucking my mother? Who would be around to call it vile?_ He imagined hours without worry, hours without the threat of death chasing them, wherein they could be alone in their home. His father away as usual. 

Hours wherein he could just try it... Touch her face, her shoulder. Read her reaction. Hours to feel the softness of her pale skin, to undress her, to learn the taste of her, the sounds she might make, the feel of her nails breaking the skin of his back. 

A loud bang on the bedroom door interrupted Draco’s thoughts. “I think we should go,” he said, backing away from the door. Narcissa nodded wide eyed as she grabbed her suitcase and the potions bag. The pushed against the frame as Draco picked up the food bag and grabbed her arm as they disapparated. 


End file.
